


The Irony of Choking on a Lifesaver

by LithiumReaper



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:41:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LithiumReaper/pseuds/LithiumReaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Notorious criminal, simply known as Deucalion, was found dead on Thursday morning."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Irony of Choking on a Lifesaver

**Author's Note:**

> So this happened, and I'm not sure what to make of it...  
> Plus, I'm still depressed, because Hoech won't be a series regular anymore, which sucks balls.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes are my own. Title is from an All Time Low song with the same name.
> 
> Kudos + concrit most welcome ♡

Stiles is wearing a pair of abnormally tight jeans. Deucalion slides his hand down his spine and Stiles forces himself not to shudder in disgust. Stiles bites his lip and looks over his shoulder at the semi-blind murderous criminal behind him.

“You’ll be coming home with me tonight.” Deucalion tells, rather than asks Stiles. He’s been working Deucalion for nearly a year on and off, and he cannot contain his joy at the thought that he’ll be done with this piece of trash. Deucalion takes Stiles’ smile the wrong way, and Stiles lets him.

“Get me a glass of wine.” Deucalion pats Stiles on his ass, “Do you want something from the bar, David?” Stiles and Deucalion both turn to look at Derek, David now, and Stiles arches an eyebrow in inquiry. 

“A beer, please.” Derek nods and looks away, scanning the room. Derek is just as much of criminal as Stiles is and they became reluctant partners in their swindling. Stiles nods and moves to the bar. His white shirt clings to him and he sways his hips as he walks, knowing that Deucalion is watching, but feeling Derek’s eyes tracking him.

Stiles waits patiently at the bar and smiles flirtatiously at the bartender. Stiles knows that he and Derek are taking one hell of a risk targeting a huge mark like Deucalion. Deucalion is notorious in the criminal world. He has incredibly expensive tastes and enjoys stolen art just as much as he enjoys aged wine. No one knows how he lost most of his sight, but it isn’t like he needs to see anyway. He has Kali on his arm and she acts like a seeing-eye-dog. Ennis looms over Deucalion’s shoulder and enforces Deucalion’s rules on the lackeys who stupidly work for him. The bartender, Aiden, also works for Deucalion. Then there’s David – Derek – who’s been with Deucalion for a little longer than Stiles has been playing around. 

Derek is a straight-up killer and he’s proved himself useful many times when he prevented assassination attempts on the old prick’s life. Stiles once asked Derek why he kept saving Deucalion, when the idea is to eventually kill him, and Derek just smiled and said that it wasn’t time. Stiles doesn’t know anything about Derek, aside from his name and how tight his jeans are. Stiles knows for a fact that Derek doesn’t know anything about him either, but they don’t need to know jack shit about each other except the fact that they can trust one another.

Stiles gives his order to Aiden and smiles brightly when he’s handed the drinks.

“You look good Dylan,” Aiden winks and Stiles grins back.

“You can’t afford me Aiden,” Stiles pokes his tongue out at Aiden and moves back to where Deucalion is seated, and Derek is looming.

The moment he reaches Deucalion’s side, his wrist is painfully gripped and Stiles winces, his expression morphing into one of pain. Deucalion sneers in his direction and snarls, “What does Aiden want from you?” Stiles bats his eyelashes and turns on his soothing voice.

“Oh baby, he just said that I look good. Don’t you think I look good tonight?” Stiles folds himself into Deucalion’s side. One of Deucalion’s meaty hands wraps around his knee and travels up his thigh, stopping just under his crotch. Deucalion knows where to stop. Stiles has slapped his hands away coyly enough, tisking that he thought British men were supposed to have good manners.

“You don’t need me to tell you that you look good, Dylan. You have this whole club staring at you as you move,” Deucalion replies, pushing his head into Stiles’ shoulder, lapping at his neck. Deucalion’s hand moves to Stiles’ hip and squeezes rhythmically. Stiles’ eyes flit over to Derek, who is glaring back at Stiles.

Deucalion moves away slowly and pushes at Stiles’ hip. “Let’s go,” he murmurs in Stiles’ ear. Deucalion looks at Derek and inclines his hear toward the door. Derek puts his untouched beer down and moves to get the car. Ennis is around somewhere, but he’s not important right now. Deucalion takes a long sip of his wine and yanks on Stiles’ arm. They make their way through the throngs of people, out the door and into the frigid English air and immediately into the frosty SUV that Derek brought around.

“You can drop us off and take the night,” Deucalion says as Derek slides smoothly into the late night traffic. Derek nods, but doesn’t reply. Stiles knows that this is it and slides closer to Deucalion. He slides his hand up his thigh and leans closer to whisper in Deucalion’s ear.

“I can’t wait to get back to your place,” Stiles hums, “we’ll have a drink and then I’ll suck your dick. Don’t you want my pretty lips wrapped around you?” Stiles teases at the seam of Deucalion’s suit pants. Deucalion moans faintly and grabs Stiles’ hand, cupping his hand over Stiles’ and rubbing their joined hands over his slow hardening dick. Stiles feels sick.

The car comes to a halt and Derek grunts, “We're here.” Deucalion pulls the door open, his hand on Stiles’ wrist, squeezing and yanking Stiles after him.

“Thanks David,” Stiles drawls and their eyes meet in the rear-view mirror. Derek nods slightly and Stiles winks at him.

Deucalion pulls Stiles after him and into the glass elevator of the incredibly expensive private elevator and up to his enormous apartment. Stiles and Derek planned this out perfectly. Stiles would seduce Deucalion with the prospect of finally fucking him, and Derek would make his way into the apartment through the servant’s entrance. Derek has the password to Deucalion’s laptop and Stiles has all of the off shore bank account numbers and passwords, which will give them access to everything that Deucalion owns.

Deucalion shoves the door open and pushes Stiles in, “Why don’t you get us those drinks you talked about, and then I want to fuck your throat.” Stiles turns toward Deucalion, and while walking backwards, he squeezes his dick and moans throatily.

“You just know how to talk dirty to a boy, don’t you baby?” Stiles teases and pulls his shirt off, throwing it onto the stark white sofa, where Deucalion will no doubt make himself comfortable on. Stiles pulls two tumblers out from behind the bar and throws in some ice, before adding two fingers of premium scotch to each tumbler. Derek mixed the little white powder into the bottle of scotch earlier that morning. Stiles sways back to Deucalion and hands the older man the tumbler, before setting his own down on the glass coffee table on his left.

“You don’t want to have that drink first?” Deucalion questions, his accent causing shivers of revulsion to travel down Stiles’ back.

“I’d much rather suck your dick, while you enjoy that drink,” Stiles bats his eyelashes again and sinks down onto his knees. Deucalion hums and takes a gulp from the tumbler, motioning for Stiles to get on with it. Stiles fingers Deucalion’s belt, before pulling on it.

Turns out that Derek put the good shit into dickbag Deucalion’s scotch. Peeking up through his lashes, he sees Deucalion slump backward into his overly expensive sofa, tumbler dangling from his fingers before falling onto the stark white carpet, staining it amber.

“Thank fuck,” Stiles mumbles and gets to his knees shakily.

“You done?” Stiles starts and nearly trips over one of Deucalion’s stretched out legs, but a hand on his upper arm keeps him from face planting right into Deucalion.

“Jesus fuck, Derek!” Stiles snarls and turns into Derek’s broad chest. Stiles puts both palms on Derek’s chest, not pushing him away though. Derek scowls and a deep growl forms deep in his chest when Derek sees the red marks around Stiles’ bony wrist.

“I’m fine, you animal,” Stiles huffs and smiles genuinely. “Now, let’s get rich.”

Derek steps back and gestures for Stiles to move ahead of him. Stiles snatches his shirt off of the sofa and pulls it back on. He moves quickly to Deucalion’s study and seats himself behind the desk. He pulls on the laptop, but Derek gently pushes it back down, as he stares at Stiles. “Are you sure?”

Stiles wants to squint and smack Derek, but he knows where Derek is coming from with this. Deucalion is an incredibly dangerous man and the moment that they start with this particular transaction, there’ll be no coming back. They’ll be in danger for the rest of their lives, but Stiles doesn’t care.

“You know that I’m not doing this for the money, right?” Derek arches one of his expressive eyebrows, and Stiles flaps a hand in front of him, “He killed two of our friends, Derek. I know that doing this will not bring them back, but at least it will ruin his life, the way he ruined Erica and Boyd’s lives. He killed them, Derek. He deserves to die a miserable death, but we agreed not to kill him, so we’re robbing him instead.” Stiles sighs and rubs his forehead. 

“I want him to wake up and realise that he doesn’t have anything left. Once we transfer the funds, I’ll send the email to all of his partners and they’ll see that all of their drug money is gone. Even if he manages to keep Kali and Ennis, they won’t be enough to protect him from the Mayans.”

Stiles touches Derek’s fingers where they rest on the laptop. “I trust you,” Derek whispers and pulls back. Stiles nods and gets to work.

Two hours later, Stiles has everything transferred into 50 off-shore accounts and clicks send on a mass email. He pushes his flash drive into the laptop and uses a nifty programme that Danny created, to fry the hard drive. Stiles smiles and closes the laptop. Derek is leaning against the wall, tapping away at his phone.

“Scott and Kira are downstairs. They’re waiting for you.” Stiles smiles and steps into Derek’s personal space.

“We’re rich,” He whispers and ghosts his lips over Derek’s.

“Not now,” Derek says gruffly and moves away from Stiles.

Stiles bites his lip, but before he can say anything, Derek says, “We’ll talk about it when we meet up in two weeks.” Stiles smiles slightly and nods.

They walk out of Deucalion’s apartment, the door snicking closed behind them. Both men go their separate ways. Scott and Kira are waiting for him in a beat up, non-descript sedan. They all just smile at each other and Stiles feels heat bloom in his chest.

 

:::

 

Stiles is dozing slightly. There’s a breeze coming in from the window, but it isn’t enough to cool him down. His body is sticky with sweat from the morning heat and he simply refuses to wake up right now. He faintly hears the shower turn on and he smiles lazily. A few minutes later, a weight sinks down on the bed beside him. Turning his head, Stiles sees Derek in a pair of basketball shorts and his hair is still wet from his shower. Stiles doesn’t even notice the newspaper, until Derek starts reading.

“Notorious criminal, simply known as Deucalion, was found dead on Thursday morning. His body was discovered in a ditch along the M1. According to the police, he was found beaten, with his throat cut and a large M engraved in his forehead. Detectives at New Scotland Yard suspect foul play. Deucalion, who was recently linked to a $450 million theft of funds that are believed to be linked to drug smuggling and prostitution-“

Stiles surges up and kisses Derek. Derek pulls back slightly and smiles at Stiles, throwing the newspaper off the side of the bed and rolling on top of Stiles. Derek kisses Stiles breathless and Stiles has one fleeting thought that he’s never been this happy, while Derek rubs their dicks together. Stiles doesn’t think for a long time.

:::


End file.
